


Mask

by Miranda MacAlasdair (encore11)



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/encore11/pseuds/Miranda%20MacAlasdair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My version of Erik's life, starting at age 9. Mainly Leroux with some ALW/Kay overtones</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the first chapter of a much longer fic. I'm not quite done with it yet, but it's very close to being done, so I'd thought I'd post just this chapter to see if anyone is interested in it. Leave me some reviews and tell me what you think!

The mask. Always the mask. Ever since he could remember, the mask was there. He glared at it, turning it around in his hands. He wanted to throw it across the room and go outside. He wanted to dare everyone to look him in the face.

                But they would scream. They would call him a monster. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t. But he still wasn’t allowed to play with the other children. Or let his parents’ guests see him. Or go outside during the day. Unless he wore the mask.

                It wasn’t fair.

                Even when Erik wore it, people still called him a monster. He had learned to avoid them. Life was easier when he was alone. He liked to write, and draw, and sing. But never with people. People were cruel, especially children. How he hated children! He wasn’t like them. The boys that mocked him, hit him, the girls that laughed and screamed at his face.

                At first his parents had tried to make him normal, even though they themselves were disgusted by him. Sent him to the village school, tried to let him play with children his own age. Stupid parents. Children don’t like monsters. Children are scared of monsters. And to other children, Erik was worse than the monster under their bed.

                He scowled, not that it made any difference. Only he knew he was scowling. It’s hard for people to see your emotions when they can’t bear to look at your face.

                _What a horrible place this world is._

                And with that thought, the young boy named Erik curled up and fell asleep.

 

                Erik woke and automatically reached for his mask. If he came to the table without it, he wouldn’t get breakfast. His mother hated to look at him. She thought it was her fault that he was so ugly. Everyone else in the village thought so too. Erik knew that she wanted him to disappear.

                Sometimes, he wanted himself to disappear too. Maybe the world would be better if he did.

                The young boy dressed and quietly crept down the stairs. He had been practicing walking silently. He took a savage pleasure at sneaking up on people and watching their faces pale when they realized he was near them.  He could hear his mother and sister laughing in the kitchen.

                Of course, they stopped laughing when they saw him. Everyone did.

                “Good morning.” He said politely as he took a seat. His mother quickly stood up and got him some breakfast. Anything to not look at him. His sister, Marie, stared at the table.

                Erik didn’t mind. He was used to it.

                His mother set the food in front of him and quickly retreated. She didn’t like to touch her son.

                He ate in silence. Silence surrounded him wherever he went. People didn’t like to talk around him, except the boys who hurt him. They shouted. They were too noisy.

                Erik thought that if people were going to be noisy, it should be beautiful. The only sound really worth listening to was beautiful music. Everything else was unnecessary.

                He finished the food and stared at Marie. It made her uncomfortable. Erik liked making people feel uncomfortable. She was tracing a pattern in the wood on the table, her eyes fixed downwards.

                “Marie?” Erik asked

                She glanced up briefly, but didn’t meet his eyes. “What?”

                “Why do you meet Pierre behind father’s workshop?”

                Their mother whirled around. “What is this? What did you see Erik?”

                Marie was glaring daggers at him. He grinned at her. “Nothing mother, it was just an idle question. I’m sure Marie just talks to him about school.” He slid from the table and retreated upstairs.

                He perched in the doorway to listen to the fall out. Mother was yelling about telling her father about this, and Marie was yelling about how horrible Erik was. Marie had figured out a long time ago that when arguing with their mother all she had to do was blame Erik and she would come out unscathed. And the punishment usually went to Erik.

                They all deserved every bit of punishment that Erik could give back. Which is why he practiced walking silently, and building peek holes and trap doors. Especially trap doors. He loved trap doors.

                He knew everything that his family members did, and he used it against them. Because they deserved it. For treating him like a monster.


End file.
